


As A Dog, by Allie

by hutchynstarsk



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: "outlaw days", Gen, Humor, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchynstarsk/pseuds/hutchynstarsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kid Curry isn’t feeling well enough to help with tomorrow’s train robbery.  But that hasn’t stopped him yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As A Dog, by Allie

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is my first fic where they're not cousins!!

_  
**fic: As A Dog, by Allie**   
_   
_Summary: Kid Curry isn’t feeling well enough to help with tomorrow’s train robbery. But that hasn’t stopped him yet._

h/c, humor  
gen  
"outlaw days" fic  
PG

~5,000 words

  


  
 **As A Dog**  
by Allie

  
Kid felt an uncomfortable, familiar roiling in his guts, and rolled out of bed. On the way trotting to the outhouse, he passed the bunks that housed the other outlaws of the Devil’s Hole Gang. Kyle was snoring, Wheat muttering something that sounded proddy in his sleep. The others were mostly silent.

But a gleam of light came from beneath the room Heyes slept in—he had one all to himself. Kid hurried to the outhouse, unable to stop and think about it. On his way back, slow, weary, sleepy but not sure he’d get much more sleep tonight, he stopped at that door, and knocked gently with his knuckles.

A chair scraped back inside the room, footsteps approached, and the door was pulled open by a worried-looking Heyes. He always looked younger without his hat, Kid thought. Now his dark hair looked slightly too long, sort of shiny in the mellow gleam from the lantern. Kid squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light.

Heyes gripped the door. “What is it, Kid?” Heyes was wide awake, his dark eyes watchful and worried.

“Seems I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.”

Heyes smiled and held the door open. Kid got inside and Heyes shut the door quietly. He hadn’t even gotten undressed, still wearing his clothes, though he’d taken his boots off.

Kid glanced around the room, took in the piles of cards arranged for solitaire, the book face down on the table, the neatly-made bed that hadn’t been slept in. He glanced at the top bunk; that one neither.

Heyes padded back to the center of the room. “Had me worried, Kid. You looked like something was wrong.”

“Well, it is, but nothing serious. My guts are giving me hell. Can’t seem to get to sleep before I have to rush to the outhouse,” admitted Kid. He sat down on the bottom bunk. “Guess I might as well give in and stay up the night.” Though that wouldn’t make it any easier tomorrow, what with that train they were set to rob.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?”

Kid shook his head. “Just gotta wait it out.”

Heyes sat down cautiously on his chair at his desk and leaned the chair back slightly on two feet. He watched Kid with worried, dark eyes. “You gonna be fit for robbin’ tomorrow?”

Kid snorted. “Ain’t I always, Heyes? I haven’t let you down yet.”

“Now, Kid, I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t be so quick to take offense!”

Kid shrugged. It was easy to be irritable when he felt so uncomfortable. “What’s keepin’ you up?”

Heyes smiled impersonally, and turned back to his game, landing the chair with a soft thump. He turned over a card, and moved it.

“Heyes.” Kid’s eyes narrowed.

Heyes looked up with a sensitive expression on his face, as though he’d just heard. “What’s that?” He shrugged. “Oh, I’m awake, that’s all.”

Kid watched him a minute, weighing what he wasn’t saying. Awake…not even in his long underwear tryin’ to sleep, just staying up the whole night… “Heyes, you do this often? Night before a robbery?” Think of it, the gang sleeping away, and Heyes pacing this room, trying to keep himself occupied, never letting on he was up all night with nerves. Wouldn’t do the gang much good to hear it, Kid realized.

Heyes gave him a grumpy look and rose. “That’s none of your business.” For a moment he was all leader of the Devil’s Hole Gang, with nothing of the childhood friend and cohort in him.

Kid stared at him levelly.

Heyes’ shoulders slumped. “Yeah,” he admitted in a soft croak, tracing one hand on the table. “I usually don’t sleep too good night before a robbery. Gets so I hardly try anymore.” He ran his fingers back through his hair.

“But you always have things planned out well, Heyes.” He thought of Wheat, Kyle, and the others, all sleeping and snoring securely in the knowledge they would be working from a Hannibal Heyes plan—it would be all worked out, perfectly. If they knew Heyes had doubts….

“I know that. I just get to thinking about what could go wrong. I don’t doubt my plan. I’ve taken into account everything we know about the train. The thing is, I don’t know if there’s something I don’t know—things you can’t account for ahead of time.”

“Well, that’s what I’m there for, and the rest of the gang.”

“I know, Kid, but it don’t help me sleep the night before.”

Kid stared at Heyes, and saw another part of his friend he didn’t like. It always surprised him to find something like that about Heyes. Now he realized he didn’t like that lack of being able to let go and just sleep. It made Heyes seem weaker than he normally did, to be consumed with nerves this way. The frantic pace of his brain had a downside, if it wouldn’t shut up and let him sleep.

Heyes looked at him, then away again. He fiddled with the cards, sensitive fingers that could crack a safe so easy, moving lightly and uneasily.

Now Kid was surprised by the rush of protectiveness he felt. He’d felt it for Heyes before, but normally that was when Heyes actually needed protecting, where Kid could do it or not. When Heyes would get beaten at the Valparaiso home, and come away white-faced and trying not to cry, walking straight and stiff. When he got himself in over his head in a poker game and guns needed to be drawn, quick. Even when Wheat got proddy and disrespectful. But not like this—just when he couldn’t sleep.

Heyes was a little older, always had been, and he could usually take care of himself—but—in those times he couldn’t, Kid wanted to be the one to do it.

“You tried having a drink?” asked Kid gruffly.

Heyes turned back to look at him, then looked at the cards again. He shook his head. “I know how that goes, Kid. One drink isn’t enough to make me sleepy. So I have two—maybe three, and wake up with a bad head, and it affects the job the next day. Or even if it doesn’t, I don’t want to end up like one of those old booze hounds who can’t get to sleep without it. I’d rather do without sleep than mess things up that way.”

“Ah, Heyes,” said Kid, frustrated by his friend’s stubbornness, no less than usual. “You’re too stubborn to live, ya know that, don’t you?”

Heyes’ head rose and his eyes snapped dark and unfriendly. “Missin’ a couple nights sleep is hardly a dying offense, Kid.”

“Ain’t what I meant, and you know it.” He got up, sighed, and walked over to Heyes, put a hand on his shoulder. “Help if I keep watch for ya, Heyes?”

Heyes shook his head gently. “I appreciate it, Kid, but you can’t just hand your worries over like that.” He looked up, somehow vulnerable-looking, meeting Kid’s gaze honest and a little sad, and that same twisting feeling got Kid in the gut, that feeling of wanting to protect Heyes, wanting to keep him safe.

“Ah, Heyes,” he said again, quietly, and gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder, and a quick squeeze.

His mouth tightened as he turned away. His guts were roiling again, leaving him with the uncomfortable feeling that he’d need to dash to the outhouse again quite soon.

But if he went now, he’d just end up sitting on the cold seat keeping the spiders company, maybe for a good long while. Better to stay and talk with Heyes for as long as he could.

Kid sat down again on the lower bunk. “Your Ma used to say when she couldn’t get you to sleep when you were a baby, she’d walk the floor with you bawling. You always did have a big mouth.”

It brought a quirk of a smile to Heyes face, the smile slightly stronger than the shadow that came from mentioning his mother. “What else she tell you about me?”

“She said not to let you get away with lying to me, because you had a silver tongue, but you shouldn’t be using it to trick me.”

Again, a ghostly smile dimpled Heyes cheeks, came and went quickly. He schooled his face, and asked sternly, “And?”

“She said you’d be a real heartbreaker when you grew up. Said I would, too.” Kid grinned proudly. “She was right on one account, at least.” He stretched lazily. Then grimaced as his stomach cramped again. “Excuse me, Heyes.” He dashed for the door.

Heyes rose as he did, looking after him worriedly.

To keep his mind from less comfortable matters, Kid thought about Heyes’ mother. She’d been a nice woman, with a quicksilver smile, and a laugh that had always seemed to be ringing, bell-like, through the house. He’d watched them together, Heyes’ dimpling and happy, and the way his heart seemed to be on his sleeve when he was with his ma. They loved each other so much. Not that Heyes didn’t love his daddy, because he did, but there’d been something special between him and his ma—like they thought the sun rose and set with each other.

The rest of the time, Heyes could be a real scamp, or act tough with the kids at school to keep the bigger boys from picking on him, but Heyes seemed to lose his defenses with his ma, to just relax and laugh and be himself. Kid always liked him best there, because he wasn’t trying to prove anything or lie to anybody.

Heyes was nicer to Kid when his Ma was around, too, like his extra love spilled out and had room for Kid in his heart, not just the one person he loved most in the world. With his ma there, Heyes wouldn’t tell Kid any whoppers, get him believing the tooth fairy actually robbed kids of their teeth, or tell him any of those tales about the family of human-hungry bears that lived in the nearby woods.

Used to keep Kid up at night, those imaginary bears. He could almost convince himself, when he talked to a grownup about it, that there weren’t any such bears. But Heyes was so convincing. At night, he always believed in them—Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby bear, Baby being the biggest and meanest, having outstripped his parents because he was so hungry for people meat, he’d just keep getting bigger and bigger the more he ate. And he loved little boys the best…

Kid’s mouth twitched with the memories. Heyes had been a real brat sometimes. Kid had felt like he knew those scary bears better than his own hands. Used to beg his Pa to let him practice with the gun, so he’d be ready if they ever showed up. Not that he’d tell his Pa why, ‘cuz he’d just laugh. Used to laugh anyway, sitting on the porch, drinking, smiling at the sight of his son aiming carefully at bottles and other targets on the fence.

Wearily, Kid headed back into the house. He debated once again with trying to sleep, but it seemed a useless gesture. At least he’d have company, with Heyes. He returned. Heyes stood up at the sight of him, took in his face with a still, watchful look, then smiled at him, and pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his desk. So that was where he kept his good stuff.

“Might do you some good, Kid,” Heyes observed.

“Might at that.” Wearily, Kid took a slug. Then another. He handed the bottle back, and sat down on the bottom bunk again.

“Just stretch out, maybe you’ll get some sleep. I’ll turn the lantern down.”

“You do that.” Sighing, Kid pulled off his boots and stretched out on the bottom bunk. He stared at the boards supporting the mattress above. They seemed to swim. He closed his eyes, and the world swirled. He was so tired.

#

“Heered you was sick as a dog last night, Kid.” Wheat smirked, chewing his toast like tobacco.

Kid ignored Wheat. He could be a pain at the best of times, and right now Kid felt hollowed out inside, weak and weary and headachy. He stared down at the chipped mug of coffee in his hands, and wondered if he dared drink it.

A cool hand brushed aside Kid’s curls and lay against the back of his neck. “Hey Kid.” Heyes’ voice was gentle and affectionate.

He shouldn’t talk like that in front of the guys; it made him sound soft. No wonder Wheat thought he could get away with being proddy and disrespectful.

Another hand reached around and touched cool and comforting on Kid’s forehead, feeling for a temperature. Kid pushed both hands away, though they felt good.

“How ya feeling?” asked Heyes, dropping his hands.

Kid’s jaw tightened. “Good.”

“Sure ya are.” Heyes got himself coffee, scraped out a chair, and sat down. Kid felt the dark eyes examining him over a coffee cup. He cast a look back, affronted and assessing.

Heyes looked no different than he did any morning before a job—on edge, a bit brighter-eyed than normal, moving with quick, jerky movements as though to contain the restlessness in his slim body. But you’d never have guessed he hadn’t slept a wink last night, even though Kid knew he hadn’t.

Kid suppressed a grimace, and sipped his coffee cautiously.

“Taste funny?” asked Wheat wryly.

Kid shot him a dark look, and Wheat swallowed most of his smile.

Heyes slapped his thighs and sighed. “Well, I think you’re sitting this one out, Kid.” Heyes rose restlessly from his seat. “The rest of you, finish your breakfast, and let’s get going. We’ve got a train to catch.”

Kid set down his coffee mug and gave Heyes a dark look. “Heyes…” he warned. “I’m comin’ on this job, or you’re not going.”

Heyes whirled on him, dangerous-eyed. “What do you mean, you’re coming? I’m the leader of the gang, and if I say you’ll stay, you’ll stay! You’re in no fit condition to help, and you’ll only slow us up. You’re not fit to ride, and you’ll probably have to stop every feet minutes!”

A thundering, dark-eyed Heyes didn’t intimidate Kid at all. He matched the glare intensity for intensity, jaw set, not backing down.

Then his stomach rumbled ominously. “Ah—hell!” He jumped up and made a clumsy dash for the outhouse.

When he got through, they were saddling up. Heyes gave him a dark look, and yanked his cinch tight. Then long, tough, ‘boss’ strides took him over to Kid.

But a hand on his arm and a quick grip of fawn-colored leather gloves spoke more of concern than anger. Dark eyes looked into Kid’s gaze. “You take care of yourself, y’hear? We won’t be long and then we’ll take you to a doctor, if you need one, okay, Kid?”

“Heyes…” he growled, unmollified. “I don’t like you going without me to watch your back.”

“Well, I am going, and you’re not, so get used to it.” He turned Kid’s arm, steering him back towards the building. “Drink plenty of water. Better not eat anything yet. Have some more whiskey if you need it. Don’t try to do anything, and for pity’s sake—”

“What?” Kid glared at him, his eyes flashing, his jaw set. He dug in his heels and stopped, making Heyes stop, too.

“Don’t look at me with that mule-eyed look!” His mouth twitched sideways, and he held out a hand. “All right. Give it here.”

“Give what here?”

“Your gun. You’re not wearing it. Get ideas in your head. C’mon.” He snapped his gloved fingers. “Hand it over.”

Glaring sourly at him, Kid handed it over.

Heyes graced him with a dimpled grin, a look of pure sweetness and approval. “That’s the way, Kid.” He gave him a pat on the arm. “You’ll be fine, couple of days good as new. Maybe sooner. Just rest and take care of yourself.” He headed back to the others, who were mounting up, and waggled Kid’s gun and grinned at the horsemen.

They’d been watching. Kid wondered what they thought of Heyes’ mix of bossiness and nursemaid care.

Kid stood sourly on the porch, watching them go. He felt naked without his gun, always did, that’s why he wore it even to the outhouse. But Heyes being Heyes, it was always hard to say no to him if he really meant it—especially if a man was a little under the weather and Heyes was being extra persuasive.

He watched them gallop off, Heyes near the back of the pack, not leading the way but in charge just the same.

Then Kid turned back inside and went to get another gun. He might not be able to follow real fast, but he’d be along, if Heyes needed him. He’d catch up to them eventually. Or, if everything went along okay, he’d meet them coming back and get a scolding from Heyes.

Another gun might not work as well as his own, but if it shot lead, Kid Curry could shoot it.

He found one in the kitchen, looking beat-up and sore. Probably Kyle dropped his. Kid put it in his gun belt and felt a little less naked. Then he got a drink of water, fitted his hat on his head, and started out to get his horse saddled.

He had to go a little slow because he was feeling extra weak, but he made it to the stable, and was just going inside, when—

“Hold it!” snapped a familiar voice. Old Bill stood in the gloomy barn, scowling at him. “Heyes told me you might try somethin’ and I was t’ stop ya if ya did!”

The bewhiskered old man stood, bowed legs akimbo, a coiled rope in his hands. He’d been a cowboy in a previous life, and not a bad one. He started swinging a lariat.

Kid stopped, and raised his hands. “Bill, I gotta look after Heyes. You know that.”

Bill gave a jerk of his head in assent. “I know he said you’d say that. And you’re stayin’ anyway.”

“What’s it to you? C’mon, Bill. Don’t make me draw on ya.”

“You draw on me, sonny boy, you’ll get the whippin’ you deserve, sick or not sick—I’ll tan your hide, boy!”

Kid’s mouth quirked down. He did feel ashamed of threatening Bill, but he had to follow Heyes, didn’t he?

“C’mon, Bill, just tell him I got past you when you weren’t lookin’!”

“Not gonna happen,” said Bill. The whirling rope landed, snakelike, tightening instantly and pinning Kid’s arms to his side.

“Bill!” Kid stumbled forward with the jerk of the rope.

“Heyes promised me some of the good whiskey when he gets back—so don’t think you can talk your way out of it, sonny boy! ‘Sides that, I don’t aim to forget you threatened to draw on me—and me old enough to be your father!”

Kid hung his head. “I’m sorry about that, Bill, I am. But if you’d just let me go, I’ll tell you where the good whisky is.”

Bill’s eyebrows quirked up. “You say ya know?”

Kid nodded. “I do, Bill. I do.”

Five minutes later, both men stood in Heyes’ room. Kid pulled the drawer open and—saw a note that read,

Sorry Kid,  
Had to move it!  
You stay put and get some rest.  
-HH

“Aw, shucks. I shoulda knowed better than to listen to you!”

Kid scrambled from the room, his boots pounding on the wooden floor.

“Hey—you—you’re not going, Kid!” Bill charged after him.

“I’m just goin’ to the outhouse!” he shouted, before the rope could send him to the ground, halfway hogtied.

“Yeah, well you just see you do!” The aged outlaw followed him, rope at the ready, and Kid slammed the door behind him. Through the moon-shaped slit, he could see the old man pacing, scowling. Then he walked away, purposefully, towards the barn.

When Kid finally got out, he followed in that direction.

And found Bill seated on a hay bale, contentedly sucking cheap whisky from a bottle. “Since I don’t have the good stuff, this’ll do.”

Kid surveyed the empty stalls in dismay. “Where’s the horses?”

Bill cackled. “They’re loose, sonny boy! You want ‘em, you gotta run ‘em down on foot back down that mountain. Won’t catch those horses in a month of Sundays on foot, even with the natural fencing-in we got here.” He shook his head, chuckling. “And if you do, then you deserve to go anywhere you want on ‘em!”

Kid glared at him, grabbed a bag of oats, and stormed out.

He spent the next fifteen minutes sweet-talking one of the wildest horses the gang had ever acquired. When she finally tossed her head, snorted, and galloped away, immune to the lure of oats, he tried on the other one (after first taking an urgently needed break). This was a tall, powerful, hard horse that Heyes had been hoping they could tame up. The men drew straws to see who had to clean its stall, as it had a fierce kick, but Heyes said it needed treated sweet, and maybe it’d be the best deal they’d had so far. A horse like that could run all day.

So it had been apple cores and extra oats, and the horse was, sure enough, acquiring a taste and a certain ear-pricking alertness when it saw Heyes. Kid was by no means certain that would carry over to him. Heyes was Heyes; Kid didn’t think he could sweet-talk a proddy horse.

Nevertheless, he kept at it (with Bill shouting increasingly drunken encouragement from afar), tempting with oats, till the horse was close enough to snuffle up a few from his hand. It snorted back in alarm, when he made a grab for its bridle.

Another break, another fifteen minutes to get back to that position, and this time, he made the grab. He horse reared away, whinnying about Kid’s treachery. Two rears, and he had it under control, walked it back to the barn slowly, so he could saddle it and go.

He realized he had to take another desperate break, and hurried to the outhouse instead. He held the reins through the door, so Bill wouldn’t let the horse go. The horse snorted its disgust with this arrangement, and then peered through the little moon-window at him, critically.

At last, Kid got the giant beast saddled, without getting kicked. Getting into the saddle was the next hardest part. He felt weak and proddy himself, and it was a struggle just to haul his carcass into the saddle. The horse, sensing weakness, danced side to side, making sounds of protest, snorting.

At last Kid got it under some kind of control and started off, more or less in the right direction. He leaned forward in the saddle, hurting with every bouncing step the horse took, his canteen bouncing on the saddle, Kyle’s poor-quality gun bouncing in his holster.

He steered the horse the best he could, and it trotted, proddy but fast enough, heading out, winding their way from the safe Devil’s Hole hideout.

Kid signaled the two lookouts, and they let him pass. Heyes must’ve forgot to leave instructions for them to stop him, he thought with growing euphoria.

He’d barely got out of their territory before he had to dismount, tie the horse, and rush behind a bush. He mounted slower than ever, and the horse kept dancing sideways, snorting. In a battle of wills, the horse wasn’t yet sure he’d lost.

Kid got on eventually, and kept travelling slowly and steadily towards where the train was to be robbed. He squinted up at the sky. Actually, they ought to be at it right about now.

He kicked his heels into the sides of the horse—and it was a mistake. An enraged whinny greeted him—and a jerk forward along with a quick rear—nicely timed to send a tired, sagging outlaw backwards from the saddle, to the ground, to lie very still.

#

Kid woke up with a hazy feeling in his head, and a very worried voice talking to him. “Kid,” said Heyes urgently, in a tone that sounded like he’d already repeated this word several times. A gloved hand lightly slapped Kid’s cheek.

Kid groaned, and his eyes fluttered open to see Heyes’ very worried face looking down at him. Relief shone in a sudden, brilliant smile, that special smile only Heyes had.

“C’mon, get up, Kid. Gotta get back. There’s a posse, y’know. You should’ve listened to me—” His voice rose and cut off in a grunt as he struggled to get Kid to his feet. “Preacher—help me. He’s heavy.”

“Am not,” mumbled Kid, leaning on Heyes. His head spun, and he felt funny. Least he didn’t have to rush to the bushes again. He mustn’t have been out for long. Where did that proddy horse get to?

“Wonder if we’ll catch the horse,” he muttered into Heyes sweat-smelling, warm shoulder.

“Don’t wanna hear it, Kid,” grunted Heyes, helping him (with Preacher’s added help), to get boosted up into a saddle. Then Heyes swung up behind him. “Go on ahead, Preacher,” said Heyes, gesturing to the dark-hatted man as he took the reins, his arms tight around Kid.

Kid frowned sourly as he realized he’d just become a burden to Heyes yet again, and made things worse. Now the rest of the gang was ahead, and they were falling behind.

“Get the money, Heyes?”

“Went without a hitch,” said Heyes in a voice that was trying to be light and confident, and was only a little bit tight.

“Open the safe without trouble?”

Heyes urged his horse forward, steering around a few boulders. “Went fine, Kid. I picked it, didn’t need the dynamite.”

“Good. And no trouble? No heroes, no need for a fast draw?”

“Well, Kid, Preacher had to—to keep a couple guards in line, but it went without any injuries.”

Kid swallowed. “You needed me there.”

“I needed you to stay home and rest.”

Kid bit his lip, and silently acknowledged this. There was such a thing as being too stubborn. His head ached, and if he needed to stop behind a bush, that was just gonna be too bad, with a posse and all.

“Sorry, Heyes,” he mumbled. “I shoulda stayed.”

Hands tightened briefly around him. “Nah, Kid, I knew how stubborn you are. I should’ve made Bill blockade you in the outhouse. My fault, much as yours.”

Unbelievably generous, to take half the blame. Kid felt both grateful and guilty.

Kid let his eyes droop shut to relieve them from the bright glare of the sun, but he clung to consciousness so he wouldn’t be too much of a dead weight for Heyes.

After a few moments, Heyes asked, “Which horse did you take, Kid?”

“Oh, the mean one.”

Heyes snorted. “So he bucked you off in a fit of proddyness, not nervousness.”

Kid winced at the memory of landing hard. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Guess I learned my lesson,” he added sourly.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Kid. You’re obviously good with him, to catch him and ride him so far, especially feeling sick.”

Kid grimaced. “You mean I gotta work with him again?”

“Nah, only if we ever catch him, Kid.” Heyes gave his side a pat, and then urged his horse on.

“I’ll listen next time,” offered Kid.

“Promise?” said Heyes lightly.

“Uh-huh.”

He could see Devil’s Hole ahead, the safety ahead. Behind, a gunshot sounded, and the thunder of hooves approached.

Heyes kicked his heels into his horse harder, and the tired animal tried to speed up.

The rest of the gang had reached safety. Hadn’t even looked back, just kept going, thought Kid sourly. Heyes wouldn’t leave any of them behind; they shouldn’t leave him behind.

“Hyah!” shouted Heyes, urging the horse forward with reins and heels. Kid raised his voice as well, and the horse put on a burst of speed.

BANG! BANG!

Kid winced at the sound of the posse shooting. They weren’t close yet, but they were in sight—and eager with it. If he were feeling less light-headed, Kid would’ve wanted to leaned around and fire off a few cover shots. Instead all he could do was crouch in front of Heyes, hating this, that he was being guarded by Heyes’ life. That Heyes would risk anything and everything for him.

It was mutual, of course, but if he’d just listened, it wouldn’t have been necessary.

I’ll listen next time, I’ll listen, Heyes, he promised silently.

They made it! Round the last turn, past the sentries, and now the cover fire kept them safe. The horse slowed to a trot, and they would be safe, they were safe, they were almost there—they were home.

“Heyes,” said Kid, as they rounded the last corner and approached the barn, “think you’ll sleep good tonight?”

Heyes laughed. “Like a baby, Kid!”

He slid from the saddle and held his hands up to help Kid down, smiling up at Kid, his brown eyes smiling and scolding and glad to be alive.

Kid slid down into his waiting arms, and leaned on him. Bill stepped forward and took the horse’s reins.

“Me too,” said Kid. “And I’ll give Kyle back his gun.”

“Kyle’s gun?! You were gonna use Kyle’s gun?” Heyes burst out laughing.

“’Scuse me.” Kid let go of Heyes and dashed to the outhouse, still followed by Heyes startled laughter.

  
<<<>>>

  
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 _a/n: Title is supposed to imply "sick as a dog," lol. I'm not sure how well it works as a title, but it was the best I could come up with. I don't want to spent longer trying to find a title than I did working on the other parts of the story! (My original working title was "Can't Sleep," but that didn't end up fitting the completed story very well.)_

 _Second author's note: I think this is my first fic where they're not cousins!!_


End file.
